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Those of us who have sought a faculty position at a small, private liberal arts college do so knowing that the pay may be lower than at a research institution and that student advising and committee responsibilities are likely to be greater. However, the appeal of small colleges is the close-knit academic community: You can be a part of an academic home where colleagues find deep purpose and meaning in the institution’s teaching-centered mission and enjoy the advantage of smaller classes and more direct contact with students.
However, little of this matters if the institution fails to stay fiscally solvent—a reality that we and many others in this sector are unfortunately facing.
Perhaps those of you reading this are at institutions that may be showing signs of fiscal stress: The buildings are in need of repair, vacant faculty and staff positions are unfilled, and institutional contributions to retirement funds have been reduced. We’ve been there. We were colleagues at the now-closed College of Saint Rose: an early-career assistant professor, a midcareer faculty member and a senior faculty member nearing retirement age, all of us professors of education and teacher educators. We juxtapose the death of the institution with how each of us experienced professional deaths and rebirths into new positions. We hope you heed our warning and find some comfort in our personal journeys.
The Obituary
At the beginning of the 2023–24 academic year, our small private institution, like many institutions, experienced consistently low enrollment. We’d survived two iterations of cuts to programs and faculty within the previous decade. Despite these negative signs, we approached the academic term with a “business as usual” mindset. We applied for grants, worked toward reaffirmation of accreditation and drafted new initiatives.
This all came to a halt the moment the impending closure was leaked to the press.
The announcement of closure was officially communicated at the end of the fall 2023 semester. Instead of the usual joyful conclusion to student teaching, teacher performance assessments and exams, we were drowned in a sea of sadness and stress. While sending distress signals to other institutions, asking them to accept our candidates without hesitation, some institutions were circling the carcass, making empty promises to our students. Faculty were tasked with developing teach-out plans and conducting family outreach for hundreds of students at both the graduate and undergraduate level. We felt as though we were thrust into the role of hospice workers. Our own confusion, heartache and anger had to be ignored for every trip to campus and every interaction with students.
The end was coming. It was time to get our own affairs in order.
In an emergency faculty meeting, the administration asked us not to jump ship despite limited hope and feeble lifelines. The message: The college was to remain open one more semester, and all current employees were needed to support students. Here is how each of us experienced the first and only full faculty meeting regarding the closure:
“I received the news that the college was closing when I was five months pregnant with my second child. During this life experience, you hope that people say ‘congratulations’ and ask how you’re feeling in regards to growing a human; instead, they were walking on eggshells wondering if I’d have a paycheck once I’d created another mouth to feed. As they say, there’s no right time to have a baby, but I for one hoped it was at a time with a stable job and health insurance.”
—Jennifer, early-career faculty member
“I had just submitted my tenure dossier a month before, only to find out the institution would not exist past the next semester. While waiting for my tenure letter, I navigated applications, interviews and the recent passing of a colleague. As the board delayed tenure announcements, I was trying to quickly sort through my options—should I return to K-12, work as a consultant at a private firm or relocate for another professorship? With a son in college, I could not afford to start over.”
—Julienne, midcareer faculty member
“The announcement did not come as a shock to me. I recounted the significant financial cutbacks over the years. I spent 15 years in public schools and more than 20 in higher education. I was within five years of my full benefit age for Social Security, but retirement was not on my mind. I wanted to continue my dedication to scholarly work and shaping new teachers. The pressing concern in my mind was, would I experience age bias when looking for another position?”
—Terri, senior faculty member
At the time of the closure announcement, our questions were personal, but shared common themes. Where will I find work? Will I find work for the next academic year when searches are already underway? Who will hire me with my physical, age, family, etc., limitations? Should I re-enter the PK-12 classroom?
And beyond our personal worries were questions such as, what do I know about teach-out agreements? How do we work with institutions that guarantee our students on-time graduation when the programs are so different? What do we tell our longtime PK-12 partners? How does this impact my work on an IRB-approved study with colleagues? These thoughts were all-consuming, personally and professionally.
The Want Ads
The reality for us as faculty was that there were very few open positions in higher education, and fewer yet in our field, our specialization, or our geographic area. Each of us handled this reality differently.
“I cast a wide net applying for government work, consulting jobs, K-12 positions, as well as tenure-track professor positions. I took some temporary government contract work in the interim to boost my salary. I had seven months before I knew unemployment would kick in. I mostly interviewed for higher education positions while teaching course overloads and consulting. I could not tailor my résumé and cover letters for every posting; I simply had no time. Applying for positions was another part-time job, and I did not have the energy to reinvent myself for a post on Indeed or LinkedIn. In the end, I interviewed at several institutions, public and private. I was offered a couple of positions and decided to go with a financially stable public institution, working alongside faculty with whom I’d already bonded. There was an opportunity to grow the program. There was only one catch: I had to decide if I was willing to have a very lengthy commute or move.”
—Julienne, midcareer faculty member
“I had only been in my position as assistant professor for 18 months or so when I was effectively handed my pink slip. That meant I lacked deep-seated roots. It also meant this was the second college I’d be leaving due to financial instability. Yes, I’d come to this position after leaving my previous institution when its financial outlook was too uncertain for me to stay when planning for my family’s future. Upon hearing the news of the closure, I wasn’t casting a wide net in my job search. I was apprehensive about casting a net at all. Well-meaning people offered ideas and suggestions, colleagues in the department shared links to job postings, and the college’s HR department sent around mostly useless links to job boards and resources.”
—Jennifer, early-career faculty member
Each of us is committed to teaching despite the daily realities of the profession. The question for us was never about if we would teach, but instead where and how. We landed new positions, but they have come with new challenges.
“I was offered a position to work at a local college that had adopted one of our closing college’s programs. This was a floating door in the frozen Atlantic, a silver lining. I didn’t have the need, nor the bandwidth, to negotiate. What I’m navigating now, however, is the prospect of starting over, once again.
“My friends from grad school are talking about their tenure reviews while I’m starting my clock anew. Starting over every two years means I’ve focused on getting classes established and acclimating, while regrettably letting scholarship take a back burner. At these teaching-focused institutions, tenure requirements for publications differ, and priorities are aligned with service and teaching. I always thought I had more time.”
—Jennifer, early-career faculty member
“Advocating for yourself is difficult. During negotiations, the new institution offered to honor my newly acquired rank as associate professor, which made the decision for me. However, given that the tenure requirements were different, I still needed to apply for tenure in the near future. Although moving to a new area was not in our family’s immediate plans, we found a house. Instead of a 90-minute commute, I had a 13-minute one—the same as for my old institution.”
—Julienne, midcareer faculty member
“I had to take what I could get. No one was offering my rank. I felt committed to living in my current home, since my children attended the local high school. All of my children are adopted or in foster care; consistency is key for them. I observed my ‘equivalent’ colleagues talk about retirement, adjunct positions, major pay cuts. Throughout my career, as a female, I have always doubted my expertise and found it difficult to say, ‘I’m worth more.’ Self- advocacy has never been my strength.”
—Terri, senior faculty member
One Year Later
We are not without hope. Despite the challenges facing higher education, and teacher-preparation programs in particular, we have each been reinvigorated beyond what we could have imagined.
Jennifer found a tenure-track position at a neighboring private institution and has a beautiful new son. Her advice might speak to other early-career faculty.
“I was once told not to say yes to everything in order to protect my time and energy. This has been sound advice, and I strive for work-life balance. I have benefited, however, from saying yes to some key opportunities. Taking on leadership and collaborative opportunities, such as IRB chair or assessment coordinator, or serving on collegewide committees even when feeling like a novice, have provided personal and professional growth.”
—Jennifer, early-career faculty member
Julienne received a promotion to associate professor just prior to the closure of the former institution. She negotiated with that advanced rank and relocated to a regional public comprehensive institution.
“As new faculty in an unfamiliar area, I am once again forging new relationships with other departments, staff and local school teachers and school officials. In many ways I am starting anew. However, my diverse skill set has served me well. I have extensive experience with online teaching, curriculum design and facilitating professional development, and have kept abreast of instructional technologies. I have turned those prior leadership skills into opportunities for research and program development. I continue to grow and learn from my colleagues.”
—Julienne, midcareer faculty member
Terri was sought by a fully online public comprehensive institution for her knowledge regarding accreditation, assessment and certification. She was granted assistant professor status and is restarting both the rank and tenure process. As the most senior of the authors of this article, her perspective might give reason for hope for other senior faculty.
“As I look back, I think we all failed to recognize how deeply troubled the institution was, how we each lost a bit of our passion and how stressful the work environment was. Now, six months removed and working without those previous stressors, I feel more focused and energetic. I didn’t know that my curiosity regarding online pedagogy, assessment and accreditation might lead me to this new opportunity. Diversification, like an investment portfolio, might serve us all well in academia—especially at small liberal arts institutions.”
—Terri, senior faculty member
We all believe the actions you take now may help you find your next position. So, we provide our limited experience advice below:
- Diversify your academic portfolio. Develop a secondary passion in online pedagogy, accreditation or program assessment. These diversified interests may create new possibilities in policy development, technology or research roles in state government.
- Become involved in and network within professional organizations, including, for teacher educators and state and local teacher-preparation organizations. Meaningful connections are often forged within those networks. Tenure is nice, but diversified interests and a record of leadership in professional activities can go a long way.
- Develop a track record demonstrating a strong work ethic and responsiveness to the learning needs of a diverse student body. Create peer-mentor programs, develop tutoring programs at local schools and help the college provide strong mentorship to students who might be underperforming. It will prove extremely beneficial for others and for you.
- Help your institution become more nimble. Take a direct role in responding to societal changes with urgency; the survival of the institution depends on flexible delivery while staying true to the mission.
Postscript
As the three of us adjust to our new environments, we wonder why so little research explores the realities of college closure for tenured and tenure-track faculty. We are now considering research that might delve into deeper questions.
- Do faculty outside our field of teacher education experience the closure of an institution, the employment search and re-employment in similar ways?
- Has the trend of college closures impacted women in higher education differently and/or disproportionally than our male counterparts?
- What elements of ageism, sexism, racism, etc., are impacting job searches and negotiating processes for faculty after a closure?
- Are early-career faculty more likely to experience multiple closures?
- What impact might multiple closures have on one’s career and identity?
While it is an area of study filled with turmoil, we envision continuing this line of research. We believe many college faculty members might benefit from the collective wisdom of colleagues caught in the same situation. We hope to continue to provide direction and support for our colleagues who might need to find a new academic home.
